Beautiful Smile
by Callypse
Summary: Tim gets his braces off.


_Just a niggling little idea I've had for a bit. A one-shot._

* * *

"Congratulations, Timothy," the dental assistant said as she removed the last bracket. "You are now braces free."

Tim felt the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile. It had been two years and 17 days since his first visit to the orthodontist, two years and 17 days of snickering behind his back and sidelong glances from his classmates. Two years and 17 days of tight-lipped smiles and soft-spoken words to try and conceal the hardware in his mouth. Tim had not been fortunate; his teeth had been just shy of requiring external headgear, instead being pushed and pulled not only by the metal wires but by a multitude of elastics crisscrossing in every direction. His jaw being effectively wired shut hindered his ability to speak clearly, forcing him to whisper lest he lisp. Shy to begin with, Tim's desperate fear of being mocked by his peers rendered him nearly silent for the duration of his treatment. But today, two years and 17 days later, he was liberated.

The dental assistant handed him a mirror, and Tim felt like his grin would split his face right in half. Two rows of straight, white teeth shone back at him in a brilliant smile that managed to reach his eyes. Tim swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked back threatening tears. He looked good. He looked happy. He looked like…

His train of thought halted as the assistant gently took the mirror from him and laid him back in the chair, explaining she was going to fit him with his retainers. One would be permanent, glued to the back of his teeth, while the other needed to be worn at night. Relief flooded him when he realized there would be nothing hindering him during his waking hours, and he listened attentively as she reminded him to keep up his oral hygiene and to take good care of his retainer. She needn't have worried; Tim wasn't going to let anything hamper his smile ever again.

At long last he was released from the chair and handed a goody bag filled with bubblegum, caramels, and other treats that had been prohibited during his treatment. Clutching it tightly, he followed the assistant back to the waiting room, arriving just as his mother walked in the door.

"Mom!" he burst out as he ran to her, unable to contain himself. "Mom, look!" He gave her his best smile.

Janet clasped his chin firmly in one hand. "Open," she commanded, and Tim obliged. She turned his head from side to side, then nodded once and dropped her hand.

"Your teeth look fine. You did a good job taking care of them," she said, as if she had expected no less. She turned away from him to address the dental assistant. "Is there anything else?"

"Tim's teeth are in excellent condition; most 12-year-olds have a few cavities when their braces come off. You should be very proud of him." She smiled warmly at Tim and he beamed with pleasure. "His retainer will be ready tomorrow morning. He may also experience some sensitivity for a few days. I can recommend a toothpaste if you'd-"

Janet cut her off. "I'm sure what we have is fine. I'll be back for his retainer at 8 AM. Come along, Timothy." She left the office as abruptly as she came in.

Tim bit his lip and offered the assistant an apologetic smile before hurrying after his mother. She was standing at the elevator bay, one high-heeled foot tapping impatiently. Janet glanced at him as he approached, eyes narrowing at the goody bag he held tightly. Quick as a snake her hand flashed out and snatched the bag from him.

"What is this?" she asked sharply, rifling through the bag's contents.

Tim swallowed apprehensively at the tight press of her lips. "It's just some treats I couldn't eat with braces," he hurried to explain. "I promise I won't eat them all at once…"

"You won't eat them at all," she informed him coldly, dropping his goody bag into a nearby trashcan. "Your father and I just spent a small fortune fixing your teeth. You will _not_ be getting any cavities." The elevator dinged. "Now come along. I have a dinner engagement."

Tim cast a mournful glance back at the trashcan holding his treats, then followed his mother onto the elevator. All hints of a smile were gone from his lips.

* * *

It took over a week for anyone to realize he had gotten his braces off. His desire to smile at everything and everyone was quickly overcome by his well-developed role as the quiet, self-contained class nerd. It was only over lunch, Tim smirking at Ives' signature entrée, that it was finally noticed.

Ives cocked his head to the side, his Cheez Whiz and anchovy sandwich poised in front of his mouth. "Did you get your braces off?" he asked, trying to peer past Tim's now-closed lips.

"Yeah. Last week," Tim murmured, wiping his mouth clean of vinaigrette with his napkin.

"Let me see!" Ives demanded. Tim smiled tentatively.

Ives took a bite of his sandwich and chewed deliberately. "They look good," he assured Tim, words muffled by his food. "Now maybe you'll smile more."

Tim flushed and ducked his head, but his smile grew a little more genuine.

* * *

Holding onto Ives' words like a lifeline, Tim made a brave and cautious effort to smile more. He smiled at his math teacher when he handed in his test, at the teenage boy who delivered their groceries. He grinned and laughed with Ives over lunch every day and even managed to smile at the new girl, Ariana, in the hall on his way to biology. And people began to remark on his braces-free look.

"You have very nice teeth Tim. Bet you're glad to be rid of those braces, eh?"

"Your teeth look great, Tim!"

"Guess I can't call you metal mouth anymore. Don't worry, Drake; I'll come up with something new."

"Wow, Tim, your teeth are so beautiful! I wish I had teeth like yours."

Tim soaked up every compliment, blushing and stammering yet always smiling wider. He took even greater care flossing and brushing, meticulously cleaning each tooth and keeping a wary eye for cavities. He found himself anxiously awaiting his upcoming cleaning appointment, eager to hear an expert praise his teeth. His beautiful teeth.

* * *

"Well, Mrs. Drake, Tim was my easiest patient of the day. Not a speck of plaque anywhere. He's doing an excellent job taking care of his teeth."

Tim beamed at the hygienist's praise and eyed his mother hopefully. She acknowledged neither Tim nor the hygienist, merely signed the bill and turned to go. Tim fell into step beside her.

"Did you hear him, Mom? He said I was his best patient. That my teeth were beautiful."

"That's nice, Tim. But they're just teeth. Having beautiful teeth doesn't mean anything."

Tim froze, his breath catching in his chest. But other people, _lots_ of people told him he had nice teeth. Teeth were important, _his_ teeth were important. Weren't they? People liked his teeth. He forced himself to move at his mother's impatient glare.

"People like my teeth," he said aloud when he had caught up to her, brows furrowing in confusion. She gave a short, barking laugh.

"Tim," she replied, almost patiently. "Nobody likes teeth."

* * *

It was three days later when he figured it out.

It was Saturday evening and he was home alone, lying across his bed in his pajamas. Despite his solitude, it was with a cautious, quiet reverence that Tim slipped his hand beneath his pillow and withdrew a well-worn envelope, and from that envelope an old photograph. Tim examined it for the infininth time.

The photo was of him, aged two, with a family of acrobats. He was seated on a smiling boy's knee, staring up at him adoringly. Tim focused on the boy, Dick Grayson, frozen in time at age 12. Just like Tim was now. He had dark hair and blue eyes, just like Tim. A little short for his age, just like Tim. Nice straight teeth, just like…

And that was when he understood. It wasn't only the teeth; it was the smile. Tim snatched up the photograph and leapt of his bed, coming to stand in front of his mirror. He looked from his reflection to Dick's face in the photo and back to his reflection, trying to mimic Dick's countenance. His teeth were right; they looked the same. But something, _something_ was wrong. Something was missing. Maybe his orthodontist had forgotten something.

Tim felt his eyes begin to well up as he twisted his expression every which way, trying and failing to look like Dick, to wear that smile. Swiping angrily at his tears, Tim stuffed the picture back in the envelope and nearly threw it across the room before clutching it desperately to his chest. He gently, carefully smoothed the envelope and placed it back under his pillow, climbing into bed himself. As he turned out the light and pulled the covers up to his chin, Tim wondered how to turn his beautiful teeth into a beautiful smile.

_Please review!_


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